


Nott Gets A Drink

by skarletfyre



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: A character study, a fake wedding, a con to get free drinks, and an unexpectedly tense conversation.





	Nott Gets A Drink

**Author's Note:**

> no proof reading we die like men

For a man who looked and smelled like he’d been dragged thirty miles by the back end of a horse, the Caleb fella really wasn’t so bad.

He was clever and quick to take action, and had more than a few tricks up his sleeve to get himself and his companions out of trouble. And the kind of magic he could do was nothing like the spells that Fjord had managed to master so far. Throwin’ fire and ice and shit all over the place at the drop of a hat… It was impressive. And useful. And Fjord still wasn’t used to seeing a person’s whole hand catch on fire without hurting them just yet, but he’d get around to it. Probably.

Their little group was rag-tag to begin with – Fjord stood out, Beau made a point of standing out, and Jester might as well run around with her hands in the air screaming “Look at me!” for all the attention she drew – but with their new additions, Fjord couldn’t help but notice the way folks eyes lingered on them as they passed in the street. One Tiefling passing through was enough to stir up whispers. _Two_ Tieflings, a Half-Orc, a couple Humans, a grubby little “Halfling” and whatever the shitting hell Yasha was strolling down the middle of the road was cause to stop and stare.

And staring made Nott nervous.

Fjord could see her hand – green, clawed – clutching onto the back of Caleb’s long coat, following close in his shadow. Frumpkin the former cat was perched on her shoulder and would occasionally nip at the tip of one of her pointed, tattered ears. Jester was leading the way, arm in arm with Mollymauk, the two of them too busy laughing and exchanging banter to notice their twitchy little companion. But Fjord, following at an easy pace in the rear, caught the conspiratorial glances Caleb and Nott kept throwing each others way. They’d been traveling together just about long enough for Fjord to understand what that meant.

“You thirsty?” he asked, causing both the goblin and her human keeper to jump as they turned to face him.

“No!” Nott squeaked, too forceful to be convincing. Caleb rested a hand on the top of her head and met Fjord’s eyes with wariness.

“She’s doing fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. Just making sure the little lady’s feeling alright.”

Nott’s thin lips drew back to reveal more of her sharp, jagged teeth; Fjord wasn’t sure if that was a grin or a grimace, but he smiled back nonetheless.

“Been a while since we stopped for a break, is all I’m saying.”

Caleb was regarding him with appreciative suspicion, and Fjord did his best not to take it personally. Being alone as long as those two had he doubted it was easy to take the kindness of strangers at face value.

“That’s kind of you to be concerned,” the human said carefully. “But really, we’ll be okay. Nott would let me know if she were that badly in need of a drink.”

“Somebody say drinks?”

Fjord stumbled slightly as a muscular arm draped itself around his neck, and suddenly Beau was there beside him, grinning that grin that meant she was likely to get herself into some more goddamn trouble.

“It ain’t polite to eavesdrop,” Fjord said, slinging an arm over her shoulders in turn. “But yes, drinks were mentioned in passing.”

“I love drinks,” intoned the dry voice of Yasha, settling in at a pace by Beau’s side. “We should get some.”

“That’d be nice,” Nott muttered, and twitched when Frumpkin tugged at a loose thread of bandage. Caleb sighed heavily.

“I’m sure that would be very nice indeed, but that’s not something we can worry about right now. We don’t have any coin.”

A communal grumble from Yasha, Nott, and Beau. It was true; they were flat broke. Broker than they’d ever been while on the road together, and there wasn’t even anyone that they could blame for it. Health potions were badly needed, with Jester as the only other source of healing, and the inn at the last town had taken the last of their money to cover the property damage caused when Molly drew a little too much attention to himself.

They were in town now hoping to find work, and eventually earn a reward, but so far no one they’d met was in need of slightly skilled help that they could provide.

“What about that, uh, pot trick of yours?” Beau asked, nodding at Caleb. “I’ve got like three copper left, couldn’t you do something with that?”

The other human frowned slightly.

“I could, yes, not that it would really do us any good. That spell… doesn’t work the way you think it does. It is mainly for show. The value of the coin itself is unchanged.”

“That’s why it’s a trick,” Nott added. Beau groaned again.

“I thought magic was supposed to be useful and shit. I mean, yeah, you can shoot fireballs out of your dick hole but you can’t get a round of ale? Weak.”

A sound was coming out of Caleb, and it took Fjord a moment to realize that he was stifling a laugh. The corners of his mouth twitched up as he looked at Beau.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever cast that spell quite in that way but, ah, no. Unfortunately not all magic is practical. However, I didn’t say that I could not get us a round of ale. And I won’t even need to use magic to do it.”

Beau’s eyes narrowed, and Fjord couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face.

“Prove it.”

 

* * *

 

“Oi, now, give it a rest! It’s the middle of the bloody day!” the tavern keeper cried as the seven of them burst into the establishment. They were laughing and singing and hanging on to one another, and Mollymauk leaned heavily on the counter and smiled his best, razor-edge smile.

“And what a good bloody day it is, sir!” he started, reaching behind to grab Jester by the waist and pull her close beside him. The little blue Tiefling was grinning and giggling and immediately latched onto him with both arms around his partially exposed chest. “We’re having a wedding!”

Fjord joined in with the chorus of cheers that went up around the pub – most of them came from Beau and Caleb, but at least Yasha didn’t have to nudged to do her part.

“Isn’t it _byoo-tee-ful!”_ Jester sighed dramatically as she shoved her hand under the barkeep’s nose. A gleaming gemstone ring sat on her little blue finger, sparkling as she wiggled them. It was the last of the rings she’d pilfered from the pockets of the Devil Toad, and the only one she couldn’t be persuaded to sell. “Can you believe he gave this to me, this man right here, when he asked me to marry him and become his wife? Isn’t that just the greatest thing you’ve ever heard of?”

“Aye, that’s all well and good-” the barkeep started, but was immediately drowned out by Beau’s enthusiastic call for a toast for the newlyweds.

“A round of your strongest ale, good gentlemen,” Molly said loudly, turning enough that his voice would carry around the room. “A drink for everyone in the establishment, and the biggest drink of all for my lovely wife!”

The other patrons cheered again, more enthusiastically this time. The barkeep did a quick count of heads.

“A full round of the good stuff will run you about three gold.”

Mollymauk gasped and clapped a hand over Jester’s ears.

“My dear _sir._ I’ve spent four months of earnings on that magnificent ring alone, you don’t really mean to charge us any more, do you? On our wedding day?”

“On the _day_ of our _wedding?”_ Jester added, pouting. “Today, when we’re getting _married_ for _real?”_

“Give it a rest, Morris!” one of the patrons called out, much to Fjord’s surprise and delight. A few others let out shouts of agreement. Beau high-fived the nearest woman.

The barkeep, outnumbered and overwhelmed, let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine. You know what, fine. _One_ gold, for the lot, if it’ll make your day any more special then.”

The entire bar cheered. Even Yasha.

Soon they were all sprawled around a couple of pushed-together tables, drinking and trying not to choke laughing listening to the absurd declarations of love that Molly and Jester kept coming up with.

“O, blue rose of Nicrodranas,” the lavender Tiefling began with a dramatic flourish of scattered petals from inside his sleeve. The group collectively lost it.

They’d actually managed to pay for their drinks by passing an empty tankard around, collecting change for the newlyweds. It all added up to a little over one gold’s worth, and Beau had quickly secreted away the rest. And the ale was indeed worth the price. While the drink itself wasn’t exactly to Fjord’s liking, he wouldn’t turn down a sip or two to keep up the spirit of things.

Nott, crouching on the seat of the chair beside him, held her tankard in both hands and practically gulped it down in one swallow.

“That feel better?” Fjord asked her, stopping himself just shy of giving her a pat on the back. He wasn’t sure how she’d take to being touched. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to touch her in the first place. The goblin nodded and grinned enthusiastically, foam at the corners of her mouth, and for a moment he could forget how other people could look at her and see a monster.

“This stuff’s real good!” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of a bandaged hand. “Not all that strong, but it takes the edge off.”

“You got it real bad, huh?”

Her pointed ears sagged slightly as she nodded again.

“Oh, yes. Bad as bad is, I suppose. It’s been easier since I found Caleb, but you know… something about old habits, right?”

Fjord nodded thoughtfully. After a moment, he pushed his own mostly full tankard toward her.

“Here, have that too.”

Nott’s eyes grew as big as saucers. Her hands hovered over the mug without taking it.

“Y-you mean it? I can have it?”

“Sure thing, little one. The stuff’s not really my taste. I usually go more for firewhiskey, or something that really burns on the way down, you know?”

Nott didn’t answer. She was too busy chugging down the contents of the tankard with an almost vicious purpose. Fjord watched her slam the tankard down when she was done, gasping and licking her lips with a long, pale tongue. He tried his best not to recoil, especially not when she caught his eye again.

“Cheers,” she said, and belched.

 

* * *

 

For the next few hours the group preyed on the kindness of the strangers as more and more patrons trickled in, cajoling round after round of free ale and spirits from the frazzle bar man. Molly and Jester had cooled off somewhat, even though she was now sitting fully in his lap, and a few casual conversations were going on around the table. Caleb was engaged with the two Tieflings in some sort of banter that had him smirking, and Beau and Yasha were in the middle of their third match of arm wrestling. A small crowd had gathered around them, and Fjord figured it was only a matter of time until one of them started a betting pool.

Fjord himself had been slipping in and out of conversation with his companions, but mostly chatting with Nott. She asked about his falchion and he asked where she’d learned to shoot a crossbow, and things progressed to talking about various things the two of them had hunted or fought over the years.

He tried not to pry too much about her and Caleb’s little life together, knowing full well it was a touchy subject. The two of them were acquaintances, nothing more, and he didn’t feel like digging into something that wasn’t none of his business to begin with.

However, after the sun started to set and someone had placed a full cup of firewhiskey in front of him with a wink, Fjord was feeling a little less worried about what was and wasn’t his business.

“You’ve had a lot of practice drinkin’,” he said, nodding at the four empty tankards, two mugs, and the currently half empty glass sitting in front of Nott. The goblin was kicking her feet where they dangled over the edge of her chair, porcelain mask on now that there were more people moving in and about the area where they sat.

“I suppose,” she said. Her voice came out slightly muffled. “It’s like I said before, you know. Old habits.”

Fjord nodded solemnly and took another sip of his whiskey. It didn’t burn much anymore, but he could still feel it going to his head. He stayed quiet for a moment.

“How old are you, Nott?” he asked quietly, and knew immediately that he had fucked up.

Nott’s eyes grew wide over the edge of her painted mask, and then narrowed into slits.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s it got to do with anything?”

“It doesn’t _mean_ anything,” Fjord backtracked. “Just- just wondering is all, y’know? With the drinking, and the stealing, and with you and Caleb-”

Ah, hell. He could practically see Nott’s little mind throwing up its defenses, the way her posture went from loose and easy going to all curled up in the seat of her chair, both hands wrapped around the glass in front of her.

“Leave Caleb out of it,” Nott said viciously, quiet enough that only Fjord could likely hear her. “I drink what I like and take what I like, but leave Caleb out. You don’t know nuffink about it, and Caleb says you shouldn’t talk about what you don’t know so _don’t.”_

In one gulp, Nott drained the rest of her glass and hopped down from the chair beside him. Fjord watched, startled and bemused, as she scampered between table legs and people legs and eventually disappeared into the growing crowd. A moment later, over the heads of the folks now gathered around Yasha and Beau’s competition, he saw the tavern door open and close as Nott presumably fled into the night.

_Shit._


End file.
